


Never Too Old For New Tricks

by KuriKoer



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Attempted Seduction, First Time, Flirting, M/M, Nudism, Oral Sex, Seduction, Surfing, beach, excessive use of frivolous miracles, naturism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 10:42:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKoer/pseuds/KuriKoer
Summary: Aziraphale wants new experiences, ergo, a day at the beach with Crowley and several new things happening





	Never Too Old For New Tricks

"No. You can't wear this." Crowley was adamant.

Under his fluffy robe, Aziraphale was wearing a one-piece striped garment that covered him to just above his knees. It even had sleeves, albeit ones that would be considered immodest in 1854.

He was looking down at it forlornly. "Why? What's wrong with it?"

Crowley himself was wearing a speedo and sunglasses and little else. "Look around you," he hissed.

They were on the beach. They were on the beach because Aziraphale had said that now that everything had changed, now that their lives would never be the same again, they should have new experiences, do things they've never done before. So they'd gone to the beach.

Human fashion had changed dramatically over the years, sometimes within one year, and certainly since the last time Aziraphale had been on a beach.

"You could wear one of those," Crowley suggested as compromise, nodding towards a young man with a loose trousers-like bathing costume that was quite modest. It reached past his knees, for one. No shirt, still. Aziraphale huffed, indignant.

"How about this?" he said, sounding hopeful, and pointed at a group of youths covered ankle-to-neck.

"Those are surfers, angel," Crowley pointed out. "You only wear that if you're going in on a surfboard."

"Maybe I should do that," the angel said, far more excited than Crowley had anticipated. He beamed at the demon. "New experience and all, right?"

"Right," Crowley mumbled suspiciously. This time when Aziraphale undid the ties on his robe there was a full body wetsuit underneath, white and light blue and shimmering. He let the robe fall off his shoulders and handed it to Crowley with a big smile.

Crowley gulped.

"I'll go and talk to them," Aziraphale said brightly, turning to walk towards the group and their boards. Crowley stared helplessly after him. For a modest costume, this one left very little to the imagination.

He glanced down and his own swimwear became a quite roomy, if surprised, pair of boardshorts with a very defined mission in life, to provide coverage and camouflage. He pretended to fiddle with the string while silently threatening his cock to stay down and behave. Then he shrugged on Aziraphale's robe, which turned from white fluffy terrycloth to black silk without question, and followed the angel.

Aziraphale was talking animatedly to the surfers. "I would love to try, if you could teach me?"

"Sure!" They seemed happy to accommodate him. Crowley sensed no miracle in it; the humans really were glad to help. Maybe it was Aziraphale's aura influencing them subconsciously. Maybe they were just that kind of people. They helped Aziraphale up on one of the mounted boards, and Crowley could do nothing but glare jealously.

"Your partner?" someone said next to him.

Crowley turned to find a young man, about his height, with black hair encrusted in salt and sand.

"Something like that," he finally admitted.

"Midlife crisis?" asked the youth, who apparently didn't feel a requirement for full sentences or proper introductions.

Crowley paused, surprised. They _did_ undergo quite a trauma recently. They _did_ have a new lease on life, as it were, much like the rest of the planet but with far more acute awareness of the alternatives. And Aziraphale did want to _try new things_ or whatever that was.

"Ssssomething like that," he said darkly.

"Crowley, do come here!" Aziraphale called cheerfully from where he was moving his arms about like an idiot on the beached board.

Crowley sauntered closer. He tried not to look at the gently rolling hillocks of Aziraphale's backside in lycra.

"Perhaps you'd like to try too?" Aziraphale said, with the same hopeful look he'd had when he'd ask Crowley to perform some tiny and unnecessary miracle just for him.

"Um," Crowley said. "Oh, alright."

~ * ~

"That was lovely!" Aziraphale laughed, delighted, as they walked away, turning to wave at the surfers again.

"Alright for _some_," Crowley grumbled. "You're buoyant, angel. I sank like a stone."

He was grumpy and his hair was wet and the salt water made him squint so much the surfers gave him dark goggles with a rubber band that pulled. Not lend, give. A present. To a demon.

"Those nice young men helped you out," Aziraphale pointed. His smile turned wistful. "It was quite a sight."

Crowley spun at him. "What do you mean by that?" he demanded.

Aziraphale raised his hands. "Only that it was an interesting tableau," he said. "The two strapping young lads carrying you out by your arms. It was visually pleasing." His smile looked innocent, but then Crowley had known him too long to fall for that. He scrutinised him suspiciously, and then walked on.

Aziraphale hurried after him.

"While I enjoyed this greatly, I do believe the idea of going to the beach involves spending some time, as it were, on the actual beach," he said.

Crowley stopped and was going to comment scathingly on the idea of sunbathing in a full-body surfing costume, only to discover Aziraphale reaching for the zip and pulling it down. His mouth turned dry.

Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, Aziraphale only lowered it a few inches, baring his throat and just a hint of chest. There were three freckles there. Crowley had never seen them before.

"The nice young man who assisted me with the board told me something while we were out at sea," Aziraphale said radiantly. Crowley scowled with the memory of clutching onto a board for dear life while Aziraphale paddled in the distance, aglow with sea spray and sunshine. "He told me of a lovely place, and it's only past this hill over there," he pointed. Crowley followed his gaze.

"What's there?" he asked, frowning.

"A surprise," Aziraphale said, but he was bouncing on his toes and grinning wide, and Crowley knew he would give in. He always did. What's the worst it could be? A restaurant, probably.

"Take the car or walk?"

"I thought we could walk," Aziraphale said. And so Crowley trudged through the sands in a silk robe while at his side an angel hobbled in a wetsuit, until they reached the stretch of sand beyond the hill.

Crowley stopped and gaped. 

There was a sign, No Cameras Beyond This Point. There were blankets and parasols and people, not very many, a few dozen scattered down the beach. And they were all - 

"A naturist beach," Aziraphale said brightly, and when Crowley glanced to his side he was nearly blinded. The angel had shed his full-body neoprene armour, and he was as bare as the humans on the day before the apple. "I thought it would make for a new experience," he said earnestly, and with great effort Crowley managed to meet his eyes, "or at least one that we hadn't had in a great many centuries, and never together, to the best of my memory." He was starting to ramble. His radiant confidence faded, like small clouds drifting across the sun. 

"It's, no, it's great!" Crowley babbled in response, as always trying to stave the disappointment off the angel's face. "I was just surprised. It's great! Yeah. Nakedness. Lust, definitely, yeah, very sinful."

There wasn't actually that much lust, now that he mentioned it. There was some, but no more than the usual on a crowded London street.

The angel's expression softened. "The humans won't notice," he said gently. "If there is anything - different. Or out of place. They won't notice."

Crowley thought about his eyes behind the dark goggles he still hadn't exchanged for his regular sunglasses. He could make his body appear entirely human, no scales in sight, but that wasn't the body part he was worried about. Nor were the humans the ones whose reaction he wanted to avoid. He glanced very quickly sideways at Aziraphale and then away again.

They were standing there too long. A man wandered closer to them, affable and glaringly naked.

"First time?" he spoke to Crowley, friendly but still hilariously invasive. Not noticing the scowl he got in response, or maybe ignoring it, he continued, "It's alright, most people start out shy. You can keep your pants on for a while, no one will complain."

Aziraphale was doing his apologetic smile and flail, thanking the man and ushering him away at the same time, a method he perfected in the couple of centuries since he opened his bookshop. He glanced back over his shoulder at Crowley.

With a mutter that may have been a curse or may not have been, Crowley peeled off his robe and then the trunks. He glared one last time at his cock, warning, and followed Aziraphale's radiance.

The angel led them to an empty patch of sand and flopped on it, face down. Crowley sat down next to him gingerly.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Aziraphale said with some forced cheerfulness. "Nice and warm."

"Ssstop saying 'nice'," Crowley hissed.

It was, in fact, nice and warm. He allowed himself to sprawl on his side, soaking up the heat of the sand.

Aziraphale turned to look at the demon. Crowley saw his gaze sweeping up and down, like he did whenever he considered Crowley's outfit particularly inappropriate. And then he gave a wiggle.

It wasn't one of his usual tiny happy ones. This was a full body wiggle, slow and deliberate, and the effect without all those layers of fabric in the way was hypnotising.

Crowley swayed in place like a snake in front of a charmer.

"...You know," Aziraphale said after an intensely long moment, "this would be a lot less pleasant if I couldn't miracle the grains of sand away from my body. I understand now why the humans all have blankets or towels to sit on."

Crowley shuddered as if waking from a dream and looked around. Yeah, that made sense. He got up and shook out his silk robe, which was now much larger and also square. It was still black silk. He laid it on the sand.

With a sigh of relief Aziraphale rolled over to lie on it. The motion was mesmerising.

Crowley looked down and hissed at his cock. The appendage lowered its head in shame.

If Crowley didn't know better, he'd say the Lord was testing him.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, the sun warm on their skin, the sea murmuring soothingly. Crowley let his eyes drift closed. It was safer that way.

"I don't want to seem out of place," Aziraphale said suddenly by his side. Crowley opened his eyes to find the angel had miracled a bottle of suntan lotion into being and was holding it towards the demon. "Could you? Please?"

That hopeful look again. Crowley's mouth was the Sahara, and it had nothing to do with the sand, or the sun, or how they both forgot to drink any liquids since last night.

"You want me to put sunscreen on you," he said.

"I can't seem to reach my back," Aziraphale said and blushed. "Look, I'm turning pink," he added helpfully.

Crowley neglected to mention that the angel hadn't bothered putting the lotion anywhere else, either. Or that he personally drove this fair-skinned mortal vessel through hellfire and it seemed to have come out alright.

"Of course," was all he said. He squirted some of the stuff into his hands and rested them on the angel's shoulder blades, running his palms in circles.

Aziraphale settled into the silk blanket with a pleased sigh. "That's very nice," he murmured into his arms.

"Yeah," Crowley said, looking around wildly. No one seemed to notice them. No one looked at them strangely. No one even glanced up at the cute little moan Aziraphale had just released.

"I know we won't burn," the angel allowed, "but it would seem strange to be the only ones not doing it, I mean."

"Ah-huh," Crowley agreed frantically, all the while keeping his motions very slow and deliberate and blinking furiously behind the black goggles. He kept his gaze at Aziraphale's nape with the same intense willpower it took him to keep his car going in a ball of flame, and the heat on his face felt quite similar too.

His hands, smeared with lotion, stopped on the delicate curve of Aziraphale's waist.

He didn't move. He barely breathed.

Aziraphale cleared his throat.

"Are you going to continue?" he enquired quietly.

The noise that escaped Crowley's throat could not possibly be described.

Aziraphale glanced at him over his shoulder.

"...Crowley?" he asked very softly.

"Nng?" Crowley replied.

"This has been a lovely day," the angel said calmly, "and I'm sure we could come back here another time. But perhaps you'd like to go back home now?"

"Angk," Crowley agreed, nodding frantically, yet not taking his hands off Aziraphale's supple flesh.

"And we could possibly continue this in the privacy of your bedroom?" Aziraphale suggested.

_I would very much like that_, was what Crowley intended to say. Instead, what came out of his mouth was, "I would very much like to suck your cock."

He froze. So did Aziraphale, suddenly motionless under his hands.

And then he rolled away, and Crowley spent an eternity of damnation and self-flagellation and cold lonely misery, and then Aziraphale was lying on his back, staring at the demon, and it turned out that the angel had not taken any precaution to keep his own cock from misbehaving.

Crowley stared at it and was dimly aware that he was inelegantly salivating.

There's a chance, although he may never admit to it, that his tongue rolled out of his open mouth.

"Right," the angel said carefully. "We'd better go then."

~ End ~ ~ Don't go yet ~   
~ Epilogue ~

They hadn't quite made it home. Crowley drove like a demon, and exactly 2.12 minutes after leaving the car park he swerved screechingly into a secluded little grove and slammed on the brakes. And exactly 2.15 seconds after having left the car park, he had Aziraphale's cock in his mouth.

Anyone who had ever heard the angels sing could not forget the sound.

It wasn't quite as harmonious when there was just one angel doing it, but it was still very loud in the confines of a car.

Crowley smiled to himself and did the tongue thing again.

~ End ~


End file.
